Common Ground
by Herculeha
Summary: Voldemort controls Draco through his mind. After a particularly tough battle, Draco wakes in the hospital to find Ginny Weasley sitting beside him. At first they argue. But soon they realize that, despite their alignments, they share some common ground.


**Common Ground **

_"Get — out!"_

Draco Malfoy held his hands over his ears and fell to his knees. His face screwed up in pain, he commanded again, even more heavily, "_Get_ — _out_ — _get _— " He sprawled out on the ground and dug his fingers into the dirt. Sweat slid from his forehead and shone brightly all over his face.

All around him, curses flew left and right, exploding in colorful bursts. Did nobody see him struggling? Did nobody care?

_Up! Get up and fight you useless piece of dung! _The voice burned inside his head like poison. Red-hot fire flowed through his veins at the very sound and he could almost feel his brain boiling.

"Dammit, get out!" he sobbed, squeezing a handful of dirt against the pain.

The voice persisted, not threatened in the least. Annoyed, certainly, but not threatened. _Get up right now and fight. Fight for me, fight in my honor._

He felt himself starting to lift off the ground, not of his own accord. "No…" he whimpered. "No…NO!" He choked on his own tears. "Fight for yourself! I don't want anything to do with you! Not anymore…not…anymore!"

_Then you must die._

Draco pointed his wand at himself, much against his own will. No…no, he did not want to die. Not by his own hand, not like this. But he was not in control of anything anymore. His muscles were on fire, but that horrible voice forced them to go on, forced them to do things he did not want to do.

Then out of nowhere, a curse hit the weeping man in the back of his head. He fell to his knees like a lead weight and dropped face-first into the dirt. The voice shrieked in anger, but nobody heard it. It could not control a body that would not move.

A young redheaded woman nearby directed her wand away from the fallen man and found an enemy to aim at.

The battle raged on.

* * *

Ginny Weasley closed the door quietly behind her. The body laid across the bed didn't stir.

In sleep, Draco Malfoy did not look so threatening as usual. For once, his lips were not stretched in a sneer. His forehead was not creased with some form of dislike and his nose was not upturned in disgust. Pale lashes curled against the skin below his closed eyes. His hair hung limply around his face and the pillow.

Ginny stood in the doorway for the longest time.

_Go back_, she silently commanded herself. _Get out of here. Go visit Percy again._

But her great git of a brother was finally awake. It had been heart wrenching, standing over his bed, watching as he struggled in limbo between life and death. He had not been anything close to loyal to his family, but when the time came, he had fought for the same cause. But now he was awake, and once the initial shock of Percy actually being alive passed, Ginny found herself severely annoyed with him. If she had to hear a sentence that began with "The Ministry…" one more time, she thought she might puke.

The point was, she really didn't have anywhere else to be at the moment.

And maybe —

But only maybe!

— she felt a _need _to be here.

She shuffled awkwardly to the chair near Malfoy's bed, the giant cast on her foot acting as a ball and chain. She sat in the seat and folded her hands neatly in her lap. Malfoy slept on.

_Now what, genius?_

The young woman's eyes darted about the room. She cast a suspicious glance toward the door. Seeing no one, she "accidentally" rammed her elbow into the vase of flowers (provided by the hospital) and sent it crashing to the ground.

"What in hellfire — ?" Malfoy shot up in bed, eyes wide.

"Oh clumsy me," Ginny said insincerely, finding her wand and muttering _"Reparo!" _The vase pieced itself together, sucked the water back inside and arranged the flowers as they had been before it took its nasty tumble. The vase even did Ginny the courtesy of placing itself on the table once more.

Malfoy winced as the giant sore on the back of his burned. He settled back into the pillows, watching Ginny with narrowed eyes. "Weasley," he said. "What are you doing here?"

Ginny opened her mouth to answer, but faltered. What _was _she doing in Malfoy's hospital room at St. Mungo's? She closed it again and took a moment to compose herself. She managed a weak smile. "School grudges aren't worth much outside of school, are they? I came to see how you were doing. The nurses said you were okay."

His face was unreadable. "If the nurses said I was fine, why did you have to come in and check on me?"

He really was incorrigible! Once again, Ginny found herself unsure of what to say.

"I mean," he went on, "I could understand if I had risked life and limb for the same cause as you… But I didn't."

"And I'm still here."

He narrowed his gray eyes. "I always knew you Weasleys were an odd lot."

Ginny's eyes widened in amazement. "You call showing compassion for fellow human beings _odd_?"

Malfoy laughed, but ended up wheezing a moment later thanks to a great aching in his chest. And that damn sore on the back of his neck which was giving him one hell of a hard time… "Don't try and fool me, Weasley. You may have more morals than some, I won't deny that, but don't call your reason for visiting me _compassion_."

"All right," she snapped. "If you want to know the truth, I don't know _why _I'm here." She paused and said in a softer voice, "But I doubt it's compassion."

"There we go," he chuckled hoarsely. "That's what I thought."

There was a long, awkward silence, in which Ginny played with a loose string on her blouse and Malfoy stared blankly at the door.

"Maybe I should go," she finally said, standing quickly. "This was foolish. We have nothing to say to each other." She began to trudge toward the exit, but Malfoy's voice stopped her, saying, "Wait."

She stopped and turned.

"Why are you wearing a cast? Couldn't the mediwizards fix your foot right up?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. She had been expecting him to say something more profound, like they always do in stories. Something like, "You're all right, Weasley" or even just a simple "thanks." But this was Draco Malfoy. She should have known better.

"After the battle, the mediwizards and witches were very busy. My foot was a mild injury compared to what others were suffering."

"Like myself," he muttered, shifting against the pillows so that his neck didn't hurt so much.

"Why do you think that you're the only person in the world that matters?" The words flew from Ginny's mouth before she even knew she was thinking them. "Can't you ever be grateful for once?"

"Grateful?" he spat. "For what?"

"For the pain that you're now feeling in the back of your head."

Malfoy's gray eyes went round with confusion and the look on his face clearly said that he thought the redhead before him was a loon. "I'm sorry — you're telling me that I should be grateful for something that has me tossing and turning with agony late into the night?"

"Oh stuff it, Malfoy. You're being a prat. That blast to the back of your head saved your life and you know it."

Malfoy's stomach felt as though he had just fallen from the sky and accidentally left it up in the clouds. He recovered quickly, but a hint of the strange feeling was still there. He choked out, "You were leaving?"

"Not anymore," she said, and hobbled her way back to the chair and made a big show of sitting down again. "Not until you thank me."

"Thank you — ?" He sputtered, and finally understood. "It was _you_, you little…" His insult hung in the air as he pounded the mattress with his fist and grabbed a handful of the white pillowcase. "_You_ sent that blast at me!"

Ginny shrugged, trying her hardest to look indifferent. She sniffed. "You're the one who reminded me that we were fighting on different sides."

He really couldn't argue with that one. Still… "Now you're really starting to confuse me, Weasley." He narrowed his eyes. "You're trying to make a point, I know it. But I have one hell of a headache right now and I'm not in the mood for games. If you've got something you want to say, say it. No more tip-toeing around the subject."

Ginny stared at him for a moment. "I saved your life by blasting you in the back of the head with that spell, and you know it. I saw you struggling…and I know who you were struggling with."

Before, Malfoy had at least been willing to cooperate a little, but now…after what she had just said…

"Who do you think you are, to speak of such things?" He roared so loud, Ginny gave a startled jump and unconsciously scooted her chair back a bit. "Don't tell me you know, because you don't — you have no idea — " He was gripping the metal headboard of the hospital bed so hard that his nails bent at the edges. "How did you even know in the first place that…that that _beast _was inside my mind…controlling me, torturing me, crooning to me as a guise for his hatred and ultimate plan…_How did you know?_"

Ginny tried not to be intimidated by the fire burning in his eyes, but it was hard. Her fingers curled around the edges of the chair and she swallowed hard. "Experience, Malfoy. Experience."

A bitter laugh was ripped from Malfoy's throat. "Don't you dare — don't you lie like that—" He shook his head fiercely; a bead of sweat loosened itself from his temple and splashed onto the wrinkled sheets. "You're disgusting, Weasley, saying such things. Get out of my room. Leave." So angered was he, he actually made the effort to get out of bed and give Ginny a push toward the door. He swayed in the air, but his face remained stony, his lips drawn into a thin line. "Get out of here."

Ginevra Weasley stood at her full height and stared Malfoy back. She did not flinch at the look of pure loathing in his eyes. Her own shone like jades, out to prove something. "No," she said. "No, not until you fully understand this." Her chin quavered for a moment, but she continued. "You know full well that when I was just eleven years old, your father gave me Tom Riddle's old diary. Don't look so dumb, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

"I opened the Chamber of Secrets all those years ago. I did not do so of my own free will. You know the feeling, Malfoy. Like you said, the voice would croon to you, hiding its true desires under a smooth, encouraging voice. Believe me, he hasn't changed one ounce in all these years. He spoke to me as he spoke to you, his voice burning into my mind like poison. I did not knock you out because you were the enemy — I knocked you out because you are my ally: You and I have some common ground, Malfoy. And I could not let you suffer because of that."

Malfoy sunk back into the mattress and remained sitting. He swallowed hard. He had almost forgotten about that: How his father had inconspicuously slipped Tom's Riddle's diary in with one of Weasley's other books. As he thought back to his second year, he remembered thinking it unfair how the stupid girl had gotten away without so much as a tiny scratch on her record. But now he knew better…

Weasley might not have been expelled from school, but the memories left in her mind were far worse than that. It was nearly ten years after that incident, and she was still being haunted by Riddle's voice? Malfoy could not imagine hearing that echoing within the chambers of his mind for ten whole _years_…

He fiddled with the bed sheet, suddenly nervous. "A-And you still hear his voice? Even to this very day?"

Ginny looked at the speckled tiles on the floor. "Especially this very day."

"Do you — Do you get nightmares, too?"

She nodded. "All the time."

"Do the nightmares gradually get less scary?"

Green eyes looked up at him. "What do you think?"

He cleared his throat. It was odd, talking to Weasley like this. Like…well, as she had said…an ally.

Malfoy's lips twitched for a moment as he wrestled over what to say next. Finally he decided on, "I'm sorry."

When Ginny did not say anything in response, he continued, saying, "It was so wrong of my father to give you that diary. You were so young… He got you involved in things that an eleven-year-old girl should have nothing to do with. And now, almost ten years after the fact, you're still suffering because of it. So much of your life was ripped away from you at a young age.

"While most eleven-year-olds were frolicking through the fields, chasing butterflies and whatever nonsense, you were shut up in your room, experiencing a living nightmare. The things I've been seeing in my mind lately… I can't imagine suffering through them ten years from now."

Much against his will, a sob escaped from his throat. He bit his fist to keep from losing his composure completely, but it may have already been too late. Lord Voldemort would never leave his mind, ever.

Somewhere, underneath all the layers of hate in her heart for Draco Malfoy, Ginny felt something stir. The things she had gone through so long ago were now fresh in this man's mind. Everything was so near. It was not just an open, bleeding wound like Ginny's, but a fresh one as well. She had called him her ally, but wasn't sure if she had really believed herself at the time. But now…seeing him for who he really was, crying over the mental pain and torture that would haunt him forever…

In the past, Malfoy had always fought for Lord Voldemort. But after today, Ginny could not be sure that he would continue to do so. It was possible that he would still continue to fight for the opposite cause as Ginny, but right now there was no telling which way he would go. And since she could not properly call him her enemy, the only other thing to call him was her ally.

She hesitated for only a moment before sitting next to him on the bed and putting her arms around him in a hug. It was the strangest thing, to be hugging someone who had been a constant adversary during all of her life. But what was even stranger was the fact that he did not protest and try to be strong. He just cried silently in the safe shelter of her arms. Ginny had to bite her lip and look upward to keep from crying herself.

She could not be sure what the future would hold, but she was almost certain that she had made a new friend. Here was someone that could understand what she felt inside. Sure, Voldemort had been inside Harry before, but not in the same way that he had been inside Ginny or Malfoy. The two of them had something in common that no one else in the world quite understood.

After a long while, Ginny finally stood. Before she left, she kissed Malfoy gently on the cheek. Whether the kiss was meant as a comforting gesture, or something deeper, she didn't really know. Now was not the time to explore such matters, anyway. Once Malfoy was feeling better, Ginny thought she would try to interpret what she had meant by the kiss. But in the meantime, Malfoy had a lot of healing to do.

She dragged her way toward the door again, and was almost out it when Malfoy croaked, "Wait."

This time, Ginny heard the fairytale statement she had expected before:

"You're all right, Weasley."

A small grin poked at the corners of her lips. "Likewise, Draco Malfoy."

And she hobbled out, closing the door quietly behind her — but only in the literal sense. As for the figurative…she would just have to wait and see. They both would.

**The End**


End file.
